


Lucky Gamble

by strangehighs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Friendships, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Post-First War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2020-11-23 04:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangehighs/pseuds/strangehighs
Summary: Frankly, these meetings got tiresome after the first decade.Not as tiresome as they used to be, though.Severus and Minerva's friendship truly began when they found out an unusual common ground.





	1. Chapter 1

Start-of-term meetings — informally known as _ Well, let’s see who’s the unlucky sod this year _ — were one of the only occasions were you could find all Hogwarts’ staff members at the same place and the same time. Even those who usually stayed in their own realms, like Madam Pince or Professor Trelawney, found the time to attend these meetings. 

_As if Sybil would pass up the opportunity to predict someone’s gruesome death now, would she? _, thought Minerva, nursing a tea cup. Frankly, these meetings got tiresome after the first decade. 

_ Not as tiresome as they used to be, though. _ Not that she thought she’d ever think that when Albus first brought Severus Snape to teach five years ago, but he certainly made things interesting. His presence now meant she had someone with whom to share her _ very polite _ observations on Hogwarts’ stellar selection of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, usually introduced yearly on these meetings. 

Severus made sure to answer her observations with his own _ entirely proper _assessments, and as such, his presence was imperative. He was almost late this time, and Minerva dearly hoped he wouldn’t skip it. Merlin knew that a whole meeting spent only on proper pleasantries would be very dull indeed.

“If I’d known Albus would be taking resumés at the circus,” a smooth voice said from Minerva’s left. “I’d have added knife throwing skills to mine. Maybe this way he’d finally hire me to teach Defence and I could be free of this place by spring.”

Minerva snorted in her tea, loudly enough to catch Pomona’s attention from where she was sitting on her right. She covered it up with a cough, _ Oh, I’m fine dear, the tea just went down the wrong way. _

When she turned back to her plate, Minerva eyed her younger colleague critically. He looked as annoyed as he usually did when forced to socialize, but she could detect a tiny glint of amusement in his eyes. _ At least I’m not the only one having fun with this disaster, _she thought.

“Circuses, Severus, well. What makes you think that?”, she asked, grinning to herself.

“Well, he hired a _ clown _, so I suppose it’s just a logic observation.” 

A few gasps down the table followed. The others heard that jab. Minerva sighed theatrically, putting on her best professional face. 

“We don’t insult our colleagues on their very first day, Severus, it’s in poor taste. You know what I think of it. Hogwarts is always open to those who come to serve it, and we should do our best to welcome them” she said, in her teacher voice. 

He merely side eyed her impassively, though she could _ see _ he was suppressing a smirk — but she only knew that because she was doing the same.

The others finally turned their attentions back to the Headmaster and the new teacher, apparently satisfied with the admonishment. They impassively watched the man introduce himself, and then promptly vanish his own nose, while trying to summon his suitcase. 

_ Here we go, _ Minerva thought, leaning closer to Severus.

“It’s an awful disrespect to the noble and ancient profession of clownery, to imply that that _ absolute idiot _ is a clown.” she muttered, receiving only a quiet huff as answer. “Now, what do you say: dead or alive?”

“Dead, of course. It’s the only fitting punishment to holding your wand by the wrong side and hexing himself.” he said, while watching the Headmaster help the new teacher bring his nose back. That started what could be considered, in Minerva’s humble opinion, the highlight of the year. 

The Bet was their private little joke, though she guessed that by now Albus at least suspected about its existence.

It wasn’t a simple bet, like the ones the teachers usually did over things like Quidditch, paid in paperwork and supervising detentions. No, The Bet was special.

It started two years before, from an off hand comment Severus made over tea. They’d been on shaky terms back then, with him still unsure about her attempts to befriend him. He was already on his third year as a teacher, and still kept mostly to himself, so him accepting her invitations was already a huge victory. 

Minerva most certainly didn’t approve his appointment as teacher and Head of House and the ripe age of twenty one, specially considering his associations while in school.

Simply put, she didn’t trust him. Not his loyalties, and much less his qualification for the position.

He proved her wrong quickly, though his methods were quite _ peculiar. _ His viciousness was rewarded with a sharp drop in serious accidents and an steady rise in the student’s performances in the official tests. He quickly outdid Horace Slughorn with nothing but sheer determination, making Minerva take back her own reservations and earning her respect.

The invitations for tea were a peace offering, and after the hurdle that was him accepting it, the next obstacle was actually holding a proper conversation with the closed off man. So him making a comment about how he’d bet ten galleons that this year’s DADA teacher definitely wouldn’t survive was such an unparalleled attempt at humor, albeit morbid, that Minerva decided to go with it.

They’d refined the terms over the years, to include not only the outcome but also how the inevitable departure would happen.

Minerva knew that some of her colleagues would frown at such dealings, but honestly, none of them could complain, not when it brought Severus to an early morning staff meeting, in the middle of summer break, without a single objection.

“You’re no fun. You say the same every year and, thankfully, you’ve always lost,” she said with mock reproach. “Now, if it ends in death, I think he’ll find out an obscure allergy to something very stupid and unusual —grading essays, perhaps! — and dies of shock. What say you?”

“Given his demonstration I think I’ll say he’ll just curse himself in class and either die or become incapacitated forever. I’d even say it might be his best lesson” 

His answer was followed by an arched eyebrow and a pointed look at the head of the table. The new teacher had his nose back, thanks to Albus’ help, but apparently managed to give an armchair sentience with an excited arm wave. 

_ Oh dear, he might actually win this year, _she thought. 

“So your answer is the same for both?” He simply nodded. 

“You’re a spoilsport, Severus Snape, can’t even bet properly.” Minerva said with a huff. 

She couldn’t contain herself while they watched Flitwick put the poor armchair to rights, amid the Defence teacher’s flustered apologies. She giggled at the ridiculous scene. Thankfully the other teachers were so engrossed in the situation that nobody noticed her lack of composure. 

Except the Headmaster. Albus’ exasperated look, met with a flat stare and a shrug from Severus, renewed her giggling fit. 

The Potions Master leaned in at the pretense of refilling her teacup, so nobody would hear him.

“You only said how he dies. In the off chance he manages to survive this year, why do _ you _ think he’ll leave?” 

Minerva finally got herself back in control, pausing to consider her answer. She decided for simplicity in the end. 

“Family business”, she answered. It was as likely as any other possibility.

“Do we have our bet? Ten galleons on the dead or alive question and five on how it happens.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at her, “Down to business, and you say I’m the spoilsport here.” He watched the table a bit more, seemingly mulling it over. 

“Fine, I accept it.” he conceded, with a dignified nod.

_ Truly, he should__ have been an actor, _she thought. One could easily think he was humoring her, by all the faces he put. By now she knew better, he was enjoying this farce as much as she was.

Right after his answer, the new teacher somehow _ vanished _ the whole table, sending all the crockery to the floor. The shocked staff sat silently, staring at the shattered cups and plates laying on the tea-soaked carpet. 

A tired sigh, coming from the Headmaster, brought them out of their stupor. Minerva looked to her left, still wide eyed, only to see Severus daintily taking a sip from his tea, his cup safely in his hand when the table vanished. 

She laughed, loudly and openly, at the absurdity of it all. She could feel the others staring at her, but she could only think _ We’re in for one hell of a year. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Something was wrong. Terribly fucking wrong._
> 
> New year, new bet.

_ Something was wrong. Terribly fucking wrong. _

If there was one thing he truly liked about his current life, it was the routine. Not that he’d admit it to anyone. Severus Snape didn’t simply  _ like _ things, no. That wasn’t part of his carefully built persona, but deep down, in the very well guarded recesses of his own mind, he thoroughly enjoyed the sheer predictability of the life in Hogwarts.

Food was always good. Children always messed up. No one but maybe two students ever learned anything in his classes. Albus’ sense of fashion got worse by the day. Teachers gossiped about teenage drama. The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers would be out by the end of the year. The Bet always took place on the first meeting of the term.

Ever since Minerva decided he wasn’t wholly incompetent, or even about to turn on them and go on a murdering rampage (and who even knew what was the worse option in her mind), their budding friendship was one of the most pleasant parts of Hogwarts life. Severus knew he was lousy company even on his best days, finding it outright impossible to endear himself enough to someone else for as long as it took to form any sort of meaningful attachment ever since… Well, ever since.

_ Too surly _ , said the voice in his head so akin to his mother’s.  _ Wretched,  _ growled his father’s. Those little thoughts still made him question Minerva’s actions every once in a while, insistent notions of pity and second intentions, but by now he could shut them out quite easily. Subterfuge was definitely not one of Minerva’s abilities. The Bet was the culmination of her insistence and his acquiescence, and thus became part of the routine. 

A disruption of that perfectly established ritual was worrying, to say the least.  _ Potentially catastrophic, more likely,  _ thought Severus, risking a glance towards the culprit of his uneasiness.

Minerva looked positively  _ furious _ . 

He noticed the stiff shoulders, ramrod straight back, as soon as he arrived, not unexpected if she’d had a few stressing days. Tight mouth, curt answer to his rehearsed greeting. Unusual, but within the precedents. Setting her tea cup down with a sharp and deliberate  _ clack _ .  _ Merlin’s saggy balls _ , he thought, dumbfounded. 

Coming from Minerva that had almost the same weight as a slap to the face. The alarm sirens in his head, which sounded ludicrously like that shark movie Lily made him watch in their last Christmas together, were blaring, out of control. Looking back to the rest of the meeting’s attendees, Severus could see that he wasn’t the only one who noticed Minerva’s behavior. Filius kept throwing confused glances at her, while Poppy and Pomona simply shifted uncomfortably in their seats. 

Albus, on the other hand, appeared discomfited everytime his gaze passed through the Transfiguration professor.  _ Huh _ , Severus thought, he clearly knew the reason of Minerva’s sudden outrage. Turning his attention to his aggravated colleague, he decided to try his luck.

“Seems like I’ll finally win this year,” he said. “It looks like Albus had to dig this one out of a graveyard already.”

It wasn’t that much of a stretch. The old fart looked like he was at least a hundred years old, with none of Albus’ vivaciousness to make up for it. Former Ministry employee, from a well off pureblood family, dressed very fashionably for the 19th century, speech as dry as a goddamn desert. Death had to be waiting for him just around the corner. 

Feigning his usual nonchalance got harder and harder, silence stretching while Minerva went on tensely nursing her tea, with no clever retort to his tentative jab. Severus watched as his colleague’s clutch on her cup got tighter, knuckles whitening, while the new teacher droned on about his credentials.

_ Won’t this sodding ghoul ever shut up?  _ The man apparently had no sense of shame, still prattling about one supposed achievement or another, oblivious to the fact that no one was paying any heed to his self absorbed discourse. Except Minerva.  _ What the everloving fuck is going on?  _ Severus thought, while she kept staring at the new teacher, fuming. 

“And it cannot go without mention my work with the Eastoft’s blood curse in 1965,” the new teacher said. “It’s undoubtedly one of my greatest achievem-”

_ CRACK. _ Filius fell out of his chair, frightened out of his boredom induced doze, while Professor Sinistra spilled her tea down her robes. 

Every single head turned to face Minerva, still sitting rigidly with the pieces of the shattered cup between her hands. Severus watched, horrified, as she set them calmly on the table, repaired them with a flick of her wand and stood.

“Excuse me the interruption, but I have urgent matters to attend right now.” Her tone was superficially polite, but her countenance was anything but. “I’ll discuss anything else of importance with you, Headmaster, as soon you’re available.”

Albus seemed to wince discreetly at her tone, nodding his acquiescence. Minerva left without any more words, leaving behind several shocked faces. Such blatant break of protocol was unprecedented, and coming from the Head of Gryffindor? Unthinkable.

“Oh, I see Miss McGonagall is still just as unladylike as she was when younger,” the new teacher commented, disapproving. “To leave like that in the midd-”

“Thank you, Professor Rummage,” Albus swiftly interrupted the man.  _ Miss? Younger?  _ The man was mad, absolutely mad. “I’m sure  _ Professor _ McGonagall had her reasons. I think we can adjourn our meeting here, any other concerns can be solved once the term starts. A nice end of summer to everyone.” Severus noticed the sharp emphasis on Minerva’s title, as well as the hard look the Headmaster threw at the new teacher. Albus clearly knew the cause to his Deputy Head’s outburst, he probably knew it would happen even before it did, judging by the guilty look he was sporting. Troubling, definitely troubling. 

As he walked out of the room, Severus kept reviewing the meeting in his head. The facts he had so far were that Minerva and Professor Rummage knew each other from her youth, she hated him with all her strength and he was, apparently, a real dick. Sighing, he consoled himself knowing that he’d find out the hows and the whys soon enough, even if his colleague kept seething in silence. Secrets weren’t kept for very long when teenagers and their shortcomings were the staff’s only source of amusement. All he had to do was wait for the gossip mill work its magic.

* * *

He didn’t have to wait for very long, in the end.

Four days into the term found Severus testing a batch of Swelling Solution that could only be described as an imminent disaster. How the students managed to turn a simple three ingredient potion into weapons of mass destruction while following very succinct and clear instructions was beyond him. The little nitwits were simply hopeless. Sighing, he reached for the next vial, picking a small sample with a glass dropper, holding it over the poor worm he was using as test subject. The little thing sprouted fur, turned orange,  _ shrank _ , all in the one hour he’d worked tonight. 

His contemplation on his students incompetence was interrupted Minerva barging in on his office like a Fury. Caught by surprise, Severus missed the worm and dropped the potion he was testing on the ceramic bowl serving as it’s container, which promptly started to sizzle and dissolve. Wide eyed, he looked at Minerva, currently poised over him. She’d been in an awful disposition, much like during the meeting, and the prospect of being her target wasn’t appealing at all. Not that he hadn’t been expecting it, after this afternoon’s incident.

“Before you ask: no, I will not revoke or reduce Mattheson and Davies’ punishments; no, I’m not ashamed of taking fifty points from each of them and putting Gryffindor in the negatives; and no, I’m not being spiteful.” he said, turning back to his task. “They’re on sixth year, they should know better than try to cook up a meth look alike Euphoria Elixir right under my nose, much less try to smuggle it out of the classroom.”

“The Bet is on. Rummage dies.” she spat, heatedly.  _ Oh? _

“Well, that’s new.” She stood there, hands splayed on his desk. Carefully, he added “Death is always my bet and you complained year after year how unimaginative I was. Guess this at least shakes things up.”

“We can’t let you have all the fun can we? I chose it this year and I won’t take no for an answer.” 

Severus caught the impulse to recoil at her gesturing before it manifested, falling back into old practices with ease. He’d had to deal with much worse than an angry McGonagall.

“I won’t protest it, don’t worry about that.” he put his hands up, appeasing. Arching an eyebrow, he watched as she started to pacing up and down by his desk, all bristled whiskers. “I’ll just have to settle for allowing the walking corpse to haunt the world a little longer. Any ideas for how yet?”

“By my wand of course.” she huffed, interrupting her rounds. “At this point I doubt I’ll manage to last a month breathing the same air as that fucking roaster.” 

The last part was muttered under her breath, glaring at a preserved hippocampus fin on his shelves. She huffed again, as if disappointed the dead specimens didn’t try to fight her, and resumed her pacing. 

In all the years he’d known her, Severus had seen her angry numerous times, had inclusively been the target to her anger a few times. But  _ murderous _ was definitely a new turn and he was worried, much as he’d like to deny it. Tentative, he tried to intervene.

“As amusing as it would be, I have to say that this is very unlike you.” 

“Well, how would you know?” she turned sharply towards him. “ It’s not like we’re bosom friends” 

_ There you have it, you fool. _ He should know better than being disappointed by this, but it doesn’t change the fact that he  _ is.  _ Looking down at his hands, he noticed he’d started to wring his fingers. It was his only tell he’d never been able to fully master and it annoys him that he let this situation affect him so. Setting his hands on the table top, he raised his head to Minerva shocked face, froze in the middle of his office. She visibly deflates, her anger gone in a blink. He simply watches as she conjures a chair to sink down in front of him, making a tea set appear next. 

“I’m so sorry, Severus. I’ve been so angry lately I feel like I’m about to explode every second, but you don’t deserve this.” she said, mournfully staring at her cup. 

Her apologies left him wrong-footed.  _ This is so out of my zone,  _ he thought to himself, considering his options. Making his decision, he got up and started rummaging through his cupboards while she continued. “You are my friend, please don’t doubt this, even when I’m acting like a proper twat.”

_ Oh.  _ That made him pause his search for a second, before he resumed it with renewed intent. Finding his prize, he went back to the desk and silently shows a cheap whiskey bottle. “It’s a Thursday, Severus.” she said, extending her teacup. 

“I can see how much you care about that. So, feel like sharing why you are planning a murder in my office?” Filling his own cup, he went back to his chair, waiting. 

“Ridgewell Rummage is a bigot and a lying thief.” she said in the end, resolute. “I’ve worked under him during my stint at the Ministry. He blatantly disregarded half-bloods and muggleborns, thought every woman was beneath him and routinely stole other people’s discoveries, presenting them as his own. He always did it in a way that left no trace and made it his word against everyone else’s, in which he always won because he was richer, older and influential.” 

Picking up the bottle, she topped up her already empty cup, before gesturing at him to put out his. Sighing, Severus extended his half drunk mixed tea and let her fill it back up, resigning himself to a hungover morning.

“The curse he claimed as one of his greatest achievements at the meeting was solved by an intern. A 19 year old muggleborn witch, most inventive curse breaker I ever met.” Taking a long drink, Minerva hardened her eyes before continuing. “She obviously shared it with her superior, as is protocol for all research departments. He presented the solution as his discovery and when she tried to confront him publicly he dragged her name through the mud. She lost all chances of making a name for herself in the academic field.” Scowling at her empty cup, she takes the bottle again, more than half of it gone.

“I only know this because she’d become a friend and I heard it from her mouth. Her case was the last straw for me and I left the Ministry. He always told me I was too opinionated, that young women should know their place.” she said, openly disgusted, reaching for his drink.

“I cannot believe you just left the Ministry without having at least a little bit of revenge though.” he commented, while trying to protect his cup. In the end Minerva got hold of it, giving it back once again filled to the brim. 

“Oh but I did. I jinxed his office so every liquid drunk there would taste like piss.” she smirked. “My sources there informed me just two months ago that the room is still quarantined. He lasted a whole year before asking for help.”

“And you say I’m the petty one.” he chuckled, head buzzing from the whisky. 

“That’s because you are, my dear.” Minerva was laughing now, though he knew she wasn’t even tipsy yet. “Proper retribution is never petty.” They sat in companionable silence, sipping on their drinks. The fact that she’d trusted him enough to confide about this left him feeling oddly warm. 

“Given the case, I think it’s fair that you bet on death this time,” he said, putting on his haughtiest face. “but I’ll have to object on how. Dying by your wand is too dignified for such an abysmal tosser, so you might want to reconsider.” With mock concern, he added “Although, I have to warn you that Filius told me Trelawney accosted Rummage after dinner yesterday, raving about a cat in his path.” 

“Oh, if Sybil said it then it won’t have anything to do with cats, or me, by association. Let’s see, a very ignoble ending.” she pondered, amused. Looking at the remaining alcohol, she continued “I bet he’ll choke on a plum and die, face as purple as his killer. And if he leaves with his life, he’ll get a bad recurring case of the runs that’ll make him unable to not stain his pants.” She carefully split the last dregs between their cups. “Your turn.”

“I bet he’ll just start to rot and fall dead.” Minerva laughed openly. “You can’t look at him and tell me he isn’t decaying right in front of your yes. He’s green, for fuck’s sake.” He smirked, downing the rest of his drink. “If not, he’ll break his hip or something like that, old people stuff. Unfortunately I have to say he’ll live, though. Do we have our bet?”

“We most certainly do.” With a fond little chuckle, she finished her tea. “Thank you Severus, I feel better now I got this off my chest.”

Without the excuse of holding his cup, Severus decided to pick up his work again, if only to keep his hands busy. Concentrating on it was really hard when the worm kept spinning and spinning. He frowned, squinting his eyes.

“I might not be very much in the friendship department, but I do know you’re always quicker to talk when alcohol is involved.” He tried to aim the dropper over the worm, failing miserably. “It’s the least I could do.”  _ Stop moving, you little cretin. _

“You should leave that for tomorrow. I do know you’re a clumsy drunk.” Minerva stood, vanishing the tea, the chair and the empty bottle. She watched him for a moment, “And a lightweight.”

“Fuck off.” He said, half heartedly. Aiming a dropper was not that hard.

“Promptly fucking off, you dirty mouthed scamp.” Amused, she walked to the door. Pausing at the threshold, she turned to him. “You’re better at this whole friendship thing than you give yourself credit.” She said, softly, and left.

He gave up his pretense the second the door clicked shut. Minerva is right on her assessment, he’s  _ really _ clumsy when drunk. And a pitiful light weight. Looking down, he stares at the wriggling worm, still spinning and spinning.  _ You win this round,  _ he thought, sealing the flasks and putting his things away.

He goes to bed thinking that maybe it’ll be fun to slip some laxatives in the new teacher’s food. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.

* * *

Of all people, Severus should know better than doubt Sybil Trelawney. He really should fucking know better.

Ridgewell Rummage passed on a beautiful spring morning. 

On a very ordinary Tuesday, he was making his way down to the Great Hall for lunch, completely absorbed in a book he meant to return to the Library before eating. Such was his focus he didn’t notice a cat, owned by a 4th year Ravenclaw, stalking a mouse near the first floor stairwell.

According to Poppy and the Fat Friar, thankfully the only eye witness, Rummage had a very quick death. The Hufflepuff ghost said the Professor never saw the cat pounce on the first step right when he put his foot down. 

“He literally had a cat in his path.” mused Pomona in the next day, at the teacher’s lounge. Severus choked on his coffee, having completely forgotten Trelawney’s prediction by now. He hadn’t thought twice about Rummage’s death before now, since it didn’t seem like a such a terrible loss. And he’d learned to tune Trelawney out on his first year. “Dreadful affair, isn’t it, Severus?” she continued.

He snorted, holding his laughter. Things couldn’t be more ironic if they’d been planned. Pomona narrowed her eyes at his amusement and left, shaking her head in disapproval and muttering about disrespectful youth.

As soon as the door closed, leaving him alone in the room, he let himself laugh. He knew he shouldn’t find it as funny as he did, but all he could think was  _ This was one hell of a year. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this might have taken me really long but it's here. And it's more than twice the size of the first one. I suck at planning, as you can see. This is finished for now, but if inspiration strikes I might write a few more.

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at writing something because my brain can't leave these ideas alone. Thanks to [TheCokeworthSnapes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCokeworthSnapes/profile) for helping me out with this (and for making me actually write it in the first place).
> 
> Find me at [scverussnape](https://scverussnape.tumblr.com/).


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